The Not-so-casual Observer
by phezl
Summary: Current one-shot but potential multi-chapter fic about how Gigi perceives and reacts to the LBD version of P&P. This first chapter is Gigi's POV when she learns about the disastrous events of Episode 60(the first proposal).


It's a Saturday night, and just like every other Saturday this semester, I'm home alone. I know some girls on the tennis team are hanging out tonight, but they don't expect me to come. Once you decide you prefer socializing with your computer rather than with actual people, it's hard to shirk the habit. Maybe, I consider, as I lean back in my desk chair to glance around my familiar bedroom of seventeen years and observe the pervasive silence, some sanctuaries are too safe.

Unwilling to be dissatisfied with my plans, I head for the kitchen with a purpose — and that purpose is food. Opening the proper cabinet door, my eyes dart around in search of a certain steel cylinder. The container in question, which houses my favorite Belgian hot chocolate power, is standing tall on the fringe of the shelf, as though uncomfortable in the midst of Will's sizable herbal tea selection. I smirk at this arrangement — only in our house would the hot chocolate be a loner. I grab the container and place it on the marble counter before swinging open the neighboring cabinet door to retrieve my favorite mug.

It would be an unremarkable Harvard mug if not for the _Beauty and the Beast_ band-aid cutting diagonally across it. Seeing it always reminds me of how many emotions can be attached to a single object. How special I felt when my father kneeled down to my height and passed it off to me by the handle. How knocking it over a few weeks after his death made it feel like everything around me was breaking. How receiving it good-as-new from Will, with a band-aid masking the crack— his idea, not mine— made me realize that with help, all wounds heal.

As I go through the motions of preparing my hot chocolate, it occurs to me that I haven't really spoken with that brother of mine in a few days. Once satisfied that my concoction has been properly mixed, I dump the spoon I've been using in the sink and head back to my room to check-in on him. After I've comfortably settled into my desk chair, I pull up twitter to see if Will has updated recently. I am then met by two cryptic and concerning tweets, posted today.

_Given this new information, it seems I need to reevaluate a few things._

_Somehow cliches about the accuracy of hindsight are not a comfort. _

I immediately type a response.

_Hey mopey big brother, what is going on?_

Then I realize there is no way I am waiting until he responds, so I add

_Never mind, I'm calling you right this second_.

I pull out my phone and start dialing when I see he's already sent another tweet.

_I'm actually headed out for a bike ride. Clear my head. Will call you tonight_.

A bike ride? He may as well have said fetal position. Something is wrong.

Frustrated that he has clearly left me out of the loop regarding something important, I shove my headphones into my ears and try in vain to immerse myself in Wes Anderson's latest movie, _Moonrise Kingdom_. It's hard sailing. When a main character stabs another with a pair of scissors, I can't help but wish I could do the same with my dear, unresponsive brother.

Dammit, Will!

How can I help when he won't even tell me what's going on? It has to be serious for him to tweet something personal. It's uncharacteristic of him to have a twitter in the first place. He did, after all, call it "yet another social media avenue for the self-indulgent." He denies it, but I'm pretty sure the only reason he caved is because the nothing-if-not-persistent Caroline Lee would not stop pestering him about creating one. Regardless, two can play the passive aggressive tweeting game.

I exit out of the movie and pull up my Spotify playlist while brainstorming something that will get his attention. There is no way he is blowing me off once he gets back from his bike ride. I decide on something genuine but pointed.

_It sucks being so far away, there's nothing to do but worry_.

Then I sit back and lose myself in my favorite music, waiting.

He finally calls two hours later.

"Hey, Gigi." At least he sounds appropriately penitent.

"William, what is going on? You can't tell the Internet that you're hurt and not tell _me_!"

He sighs. "I'm sorry, Gigi. It's just…I am very confused right now. I'm confused and angry and hurt and tired and…" another sigh. "I don't know what to do."

He sounds so lost that patient sisterly concern overtakes my irritation.

"Ok, why don't we start from the beginning. What happened?"

There is a long pause. I consider checking that he's still on the line when he finally replies, "I told the woman I love that I love her."

_What?!_ Whatever I was expecting to hear, it certainly wasn't that. The irritation is back.

"You _fell in love_ and you didn't tell me? What the hell, Will?"

"I didn't tell you because I have been fighting with myself about this for months… I thought that she was an unsuitable match for me, so I didn't want to discuss her with you. Sharing her with you would have made everything more concrete. I realize now how insulting that is…" he trails off, dejected.

"For months? But who—" then I remember a name I've heard on and off since Will left for Netherfield at the beginning of the summer. A name he always said in a deliberate, formal manner that I had found weird but now realize was his way of concealing his true feelings.

"Lizzie Bennet."

"Yes."

I immediately type her name into Google and am surprised to discover she has a very popular Youtube channel with sixty videos. I click on the most recent video and see an attractive red-haired girl a few years younger than Will sitting in an office.

"Oh Will, she's pretty!"

I click play.

"Sooo here on my videos—"

"Gigi!" Will's voice is sharp, causing me to push pause.

"What?"

"How do you know about her videos?"

"I just Googled her, and they came up immediately." Then I process his tone. "Wait, why don't you want me to watch them?"

"Of course you find them immediately while this whole time I…never mind. Just watch the one you have loaded. It will give you context for me to explain."

So I press play a second time.

The video starts with Lizzie speaking to her audience. She explains that whatever this video contains is only being posted because her videos have become something bigger than herself. I don't really understand what that means. What kind of video channel does she have?

The video cuts to Lizzie, in a different outfit, standing up. I see my brother, from the neck down, explaining that he has something to tell her. Lizzie is clearly not in the mood. When they both sit down and come within view of the camera, her eyes are daggers. An ominous pit starts forming in my stomach.

I watch as my normally unflappable brother stutters and rushes through his confession of love. This girl has unraveled him, stripping him of his composure and his pragmatism. From the look on her face in response to his confession, she doesn't even know it. Her frosty reply makes my heart ache for Will. I can see the transformation in his face as he processes her rejection, from vulnerable to barriers up. For the few seconds before he can regain his stoic mask, his rapid blinking and quick swallow are enough to tell me he's devastated.

The next two minutes of the video are full of angry argumentation. Lizzie treats him with disgust, making me want to shake her into realizing that is no way to treat my brother when _you just broke his heart_. Meanwhile Will is patronizing and snide, the way he gets when he is overwhelmed and lashes out in response. Memories come flooding in from my mind's periphery.

_What were you thinking, Gigi? How could you be so irresponsible and foolish?_

"And what about George Wickham."

I freeze.

Lizzie knows George Wickham. She is on his side. As she declares my brother the last man in the world she could ever love, I realize that I'm shaking. With rage or sadness, I'm not sure. The video ends with her inadvertently telling him about her videos. Including this one, available to the entire Internet, of her turning down my brother. She has mentioned reasons for posting the video — reasons unrelated to humiliating my brother — but whatever her reasons, the effect is the same.

"…Oh, Will. I've never wanted to hug you show much in my life without being able to. Come home."

"I am. I leave in two days."

"Good." And then, "Will, I don't understand. She seems to really hate you."

His next words are mournful. "She does."

I feel like I should hate Lizzie Bennet, but that's not how I feel in my gut. Instead my gut is…confused. Lizzie seemed so sure of what she was saying, of who she thought my brother was and what he did to hurt her. I can't understand how anyone who knew Will could believe any of those things of him. But then maybe that was the problem. Based on her surprise at his confession, based on the hate and disdain with which she treated him, based on her unfamiliar description of his character, maybe she didn't know him at all.

"Will, did you do anything to deserve it?"

Another long pause.

"I didn't realize it at the time, but yes. I have decided to address her grievances in a letter."

"Not in person?"

"…I don't think she is willing to have that conversation with me. I don't want to upset her any more than I already have."

"You're being awfully considerate to someone who hurt you."

"I think I've hurt her, too."

Which reminds me.

"She mentioned George."

I expected him to reply through clenched teeth but instead his tone is cautious. "Actually, I meant to speak with you about that. It seems Wickham has not forgone his serial-lying ways. The only manner in which I can hope to convince Lizzie he is not to be trusted is…is if I tell her what he did."

I huddle into myself, pressing my knees to my chest and pressing my cell phone more firmly into the side of my face. I think about the stark difference between the Lizzie Bennet in the intro of her video, and the one who fought with my brother. About how powerful my brother's love appears to be. About how this could be my chance to help him heal, rather than the other way around.

"Tell her."

"Thank you. I need to write the letter now, before I go to bed. I will see you in two days."

"You're welcome. And be prepared for some sisterly intervention when you return."

I can picture his mouth curling up into a smile. "I look forward to it."

"Bye, Will. Love you."

"Love you more. Goodnight."

I hang up the phone before succumbing to a ten second yawn. It's definitely time for me to sleep as well. Before I do, however, I follow the link on the video to the original Youtube channel and bookmark the page. I've already finished my work for the weekend, so I can spend all morning watching the other 59. If I've decided to give Lizzie Bennet the benefit of the doubt, she can't possibly begrudge me wanting to discover whether or not she deserved it.

.


End file.
